


I ain't afraid of no ghost

by weeniewife



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: "ghost hunting", Gen, Gen Work, Just doin a smoke cleanse so she maybe feels better, Modern AU, bernadetta thinks there's ghosts., its just another grape probably, protecc bernadetta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeniewife/pseuds/weeniewife
Summary: He just wanted to help get rid of the 'ghost problem,' but now Claude has a few other questions.[everyone's living in the same apartment complex au]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: apartment au!





	I ain't afraid of no ghost

**Author's Note:**

> just a silly little modern au where byleth messed up time and space and now everyone's converging and living in the same place peacefully!!   
> except byleth, not pictured, internally screaming somewhere in the distance. enjoy!

That strange thumping beneath the floorboards had been tossed away pretty quickly, as Bernadetta seemed to be weary of everything. She had brought it up to everyone before but no one seemed to pay it any mind… until the video evidence.

It made it a _little_ more difficult to ignore.  
Still, the idea of her apartment specifically being haunted seemed well out of the realm of possibility. It was likely just her imagination along with problems with the ventilation system or something.

She had begged for someone to do something, to hire a ghost buster or expert on the supernatural despite everyone’s insistence that it was likely something else. They tried reminding her that the lower floor wasn’t as finished as the rest of the complex without it budging her anxieties. And so Claude von Riegan, as a way to try and fix the problem himself rather than listen to how terrified the poor thing was for as long as it lasted, offered to at least clear whatever negativity _could_ be down there. He wasn’t given permission to go into the (apparently) empty apartments down there, of course, but he could at least clear out the hallway in an attempt to quell her fears. Maybe she'd even feel safe enough to stay back in her own apartment, not shacked up with the ladies next door.

He was not exactly a god-or-goddess fearing man, but his curiosity and his love for the world around him had brought him to own a decent collection of things that may clear the mind.

There was also the fact they asked the maintenance kid to check out the room beneath her the following day, which would likely stop the thumping altogether. But it didn’t matter, there was no harm in helping out someone in need.

Claude had been in the basement only two times before, once when he was moving in and again in a drunken _“I just need to know”_ state. It was unremarkable, and pretty uniform to the other floors. He had asked a long while ago if anyone lived beneath the first floor, and he was told they were being renovated so no… no there were not any other people.

That, however, was months ago! Surely things could change. They didn’t need to know about every person that moved in despite how oddly close everyone in the building was becoming - except for the confusing new additions upstairs he didn’t want to think of presently - but until then, everyone had been… connected in some way. By some degree, either they knew each other or had a friend of a friend that already lived there. Perhaps it really was coincidence that they’d all been supposedly offered a “special rate,” but Claude would never stop overthinking it.

Well, he could stop for a moment.

There were probably no ghosts, no angry spirits dwelling somewhere within the walls of the basement or the confines of Bernadetta’s floorboards. That knowledge didn’t stop his skin from crawling as he approached a small stand in the middle of the hall. On it was a note and a tall candle that seemed to have been lit for quite some time, dripping down onto its positively medieval-looking candelabra. The note was undoubtedly for him, or for whatever poor soul found itself wandering into the lower level. He carefully took it from its place, as if it were going to disintegrate from his touch.

_We do not know who you are  
or what you want.  
Leave us be.  
-L_

“Alright, nothing weird about that.”

At least he could confirm someone was down there! He might have felt a tiny chill run down his spine, but he’d had enough threats throughout his life and his time as an investigator to be at least a _little_ desensitized to such a weird little note. He took a moment to collect himself, getting back into the mindset and trying to rid his heart of any negative thoughts or feelings before he went back to business.

Claude reached the end of the hallway, opening the other half-window so that there would be somewhere for the smoke to go. He’d start there and make his way around, and over-analyze the letter now in his pocket later.

“What does that little piece of paper say?”

“Bah!” He didn’t mean to shout, and he wasn’t always this jumpy. But he hadn’t noticed anyone come down the staircase, nor did he realize he’d been there for some time. Enough at least to see the _note_ when Claude was already halfway finished. “Linhardt, how nice of you to show up so unexpectedly. Really.”

“Yes, right, that doesn’t answer my question. What kind of message did our 'ghost' leave?” The assault on Claude’s anxiety asked, making it difficult for a few seconds to get himself back into what he was doing properly. Linhardt only got up as Claude got to the point he was fanning near him, getting to his feet to go up a few steps to get away from the smoke.

“What do you know, it’s working!” Linhardt didn’t look up to see Claude’s playful wink, still transfixed more on finding a more comfortable place to lounge.

Once Claude got back to his starting point, he was surprised to see that his bundle of herbs didn’t scare off the ever-so-tired gremlin from the stairs, and as he set his things down on the stand where the letter had been. He produced the note from his pocket again, making a little show of it.

“The note, my good sir.” After clearing his throat, Claude read the contents of it aloud with an oddly well-done medieval twist. If Linhardt found it amusing he didn’t show it. (It was in Claude’s opinion, rather under-appreciated.) He handed it to him and stood there for a moment - as if looking for some sort of sign that the other was in on it, himself.

“Well that tells us someone is down here. Looks like it isn’t a vengeful spirit after all.” Claude’s time paying attention to people gave him the satisfaction of noticing the tiny expression of relief as he handed Linhardt the piece of paper.

“Yeah, wouldn’t hurt to get some of this negative energy out of here anyway, though.”

“Tell me, do you think this person is right or left handed due to the lack of a slant? Does this help you see who might be pulling an elaborate prank on our poor Bernadetta?”

“I don’t think it matters. Leaning either way is more of a personality thing than an indicator of handedness.” Claude slipped out of playful mode and into psychoanalyst mode faster than he meant to, his eyebrows pulling together as he thought. “Their penmanship is oddly nice, but they’re either aggressive or unsure of how to hold a pen properly with how deeply it’s etched into the paper.” That sounded a lot more suspicious and strange out loud, but he’d stand by it. There was something that gave him the feeling, after all.

“Is that not a sign that whoever was writing this was merely stressed? Really, Claude, you should be better at this.”

“I had no idea you were so brilliant at graphology, Professor von Hevring! Do remind me to come to you in the future with every suspicious letter I come across in a haunted hallway.”

“I will not.” Apparently Claude’s sarcasm didn’t get through. That or he didn’t care enough to play along.

He was then on his phone, looking as uninterested as ever as he thumbed quicker than Claude would’ve expected someone so lethargic to.

“Letting Bernie know it’s safe?”

“Yes, actually. You going so far as getting approval and following through with this at all was quite kind.” If he would have looked up from his phone or given Claude a smile, he might have been truly touched. But, “Remind me to use that against you one of these days. So that you can take care of what I need doing, and I can take another nap instead.”

“I will not.”

Finally, a smile.

“Say, Linhardt, do you even _believe_ in -”

Jut as Claude began to ask his question that he _hoped_ would spark an intelligent conversation and really get into his acquaintance's brain, he was interrupted by a figure politely apologizing as he stepped around Linhardt.

Both watched on as the man went a few doors down to his apartment, a mixture of curiosity and accusation not lost on him. “…See something you like, boys?”

Could have been the big bag of takeout slung over his arm, or the over-confidence he already was radiating. Claude looked over him once more - respectfully - before he had the chance to continue to unlock his door. His hair was an ashy purple, wearing a light dusting of makeup to give him a soft glow… but not enough for it to be more than that. He could have just had really nice skin and eyeshadow slapped on for all Claude could tell.

“Sorry, for a second there I thought I saw a ghost.” Claude winked as he caught the stranger’s attention, and was rewarded with a charming smile. That all but confirmed his suspicion there, added onto the fact he'd entered the one beneath their poor friend. The man had disappeared into his apartment, but Claude caught the far-away sound of several locks being put into place.

“Great, our basement phantom is a bottom.” Linhardt sighed, getting back to his feet with a yawn. “I’ll inform Bernadetta.”

“He’s kind of cute.”

“I didn’t know you had an attraction to people who… what, _don’t know how to write with a pen correctly?”_ His expression wasn’t the easiest to read past ‘tired’ even still. “And the locks… surely, you heard them. You’d need months of work before you could get anywhere.”

“Ouch, kind of judgmental coming from the man whose boyfriend thought challenging the ghost to a _fistfight_ was a good way to get rid of the problem.”

“I didn’t condone the ghost punching, to be fair.”

“Yeah, still not taking advice from you.”

As if to really drive it in, Claude produced a tiny notepad from a pocket in his jacket, scribbling down his first name and number and leaving a small note in return that read,

_Please stop haunting the girl above you.  
If it stops, I may even thank you properly._

**Author's Note:**

> alt name was i ain't afraid of no bottom. just wanted to share.


End file.
